


Worship

by Estellos



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, Forensics, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-12
Updated: 2020-10-12
Packaged: 2021-03-08 08:00:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26968642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Estellos/pseuds/Estellos
Summary: Hank has just been assigned a new partner, and the DPD's finest pathologist is too enveloped in her own work to notice. Augusta Martin spends most of her time in the evidence locker. While handling the deviant cases, and all the bodies that come alongside them, Augusta encounters Connor amidst everything. As his software continues to grow more and more unstable, he wonders if the forensic pathologist has anything to do with it. He can't say that he doesn't enjoy her, however.
Relationships: Connor (Detroit: Become Human)/Original Female Character(s)
Kudos: 9





	Worship

**Author's Note:**

> Robot fucking will ensue.

"So, what's it going to be? Working hard or hardly working today?" The woman before him was a vision. Her voice was just as indescribable as her gaze, which all but danced around the expanse of the room. Bubbles of rosy pearls hanging from her neck clinked when she brushed against him. Connor's eyes all but flickered across her skin.

She was leaning against the desk, _Connor's_ desk. He looked above the fabric of her blouse with a dark luster encircling his irises. She was tall, and impossibly striking. Her curls seemed to bounce with every motion she made. They beautifully cascaded across her back, reminiscent of a waterfall.

Her fingers skimmed the ceramic tentatively as she placed the mug down. The cluttered surface of the other desk barely had room for it, which forced a smile from her wry mouth. The woman's eyes rocketed up and connected with Connor for a moment. They were onyx black.

It took a fraction of a second for Connor to distinguish the direction of her gentle voice between Hank and himself. A tone like dew nearly dripping from her lips, humming, she edged the brim of the mug towards Hank's knuckles. The lieutenant's mouth twitched into a half-hearted smile, straining not to show a crack of teeth from what Connor sensed.

Hank continued to idly mash the keys on his laptop with a heavy sigh, but it sounded like a snarl with his worn voice. He abruptly stomped his heel on the floor before veering his chair back to look at her face. She simply smiled, her fingers toying with the pearls on her necklace. Hank clasped the handle of the mug, lifting it to his chin with a small nod of gratitude. Dark coffee swirled at its surface, a softer brown churning between the ridges.

"I don't want to ruin the mystery for you, Miss Martin, but the second option doesn't sound half-bad this morning." Hank paused before nodding curtly, swallowing a mouthful. Connor observed this closely, how his throat contracted without hesitation, how a near smile almost graced his features. It was a visible disparity to Hank's experience with the _interns_. They were a mess. Those occasions would usually conclude with a garbage can hoarding a mass of paper cups in the corner; and a foul-mouthed episode from the lieutenant.

"Liquor's just like my favorite girl here." Hank pursed his mouth, dipping his head towards the mug in hand. She raised a brow in distaste, but her mouth curved into a grin that betrayed her pitch-black expression. Skin speckled with patches of discoloration, her overall complexion was as dark as the coffee in discussion.

Connor noticed the pale blotches scattered across her skin, uneven and asymmetric. It took a moment to register what exactly he was seeing. They were prepossessing. The contrast of the patches against her gorgeous, chocolate-colored skin was like a painting. Connor's ring whirled on his temple. _Vitiligo_. It was stored in his chip somewhere, but he could hardly focus on that.

"It's bitter as all hell." Hank concluded with a spat. His remark widened her lips without effort, and she wheezed, bright teeth exposed. Connor issued her another glance when her leg slid onto the corner of his desk. She crossed her thighs, hips jutting out as she leaned her weight beside him. Connor tried not to stare.

"Oh. _Am_ I? You know, Gavin said something similar before I filed a harassment claim on him yesterday." She laughed, another flash of teeth catching his eye. The heel of her shoe began to tap on the foot of the desk incessantly. Perfume wafted off her collarbone, drops of lavender here and there.

"Yeah. I've been thinking about creating my own crime scene. Preferably with his blood splattered everywhere." She chuckled lowly, forming an ominous grin between the dimples of her mouth. Hank withdrew the mug from his jaw, screwing his eyes towards the tall woman with incredulity.

"You've been assigned to that asshole?"

"Nah. He's just been holding seniority over me at gunpoint lately. Twelve years older than me, yet an absolute child. I refuse on the occasion, except he marks me up for _insubordination_. It's a trip for him, what can I say?" She snapped her shoulders back, rushing a hand through her thick hair.

"Fuckin' Fowler." Hank cursed. "You're not a goddamn intern anymore. Don't put up with it — but _don't_ — do anything rash." He added, albeit as a secondary thought.

"Don't worry. I don't plan to give you more work with finding my murder weapon of choice, and frankly I don't want to clean up anymore blood for a bit. How many days do you think I'd get if I ended up dumping that scorching shit down his pants though? Dip his dick in it if I'm lucky." Hank couldn't hold back his laughter, nearly spilling drops of his drink across old, weathered pamphlets and police reports.

"Believe me, that's exactly what he wants. I think he'd cry if you touched his prick."

"I think _I'd_ cry. If he wants to fuck me so much, he could _ask_ , you know? I wouldn't say yes, but maybe it could get that power kink out of his system. He's in love with the idea of bending me over a table and ramming up my ass just because I don't fucking want him. I don't know."

Her voice was between a playful chuckle and a sternness. It was almost like she was considering if she meant it. She _couldn't_ be serious, could she? Then again, maybe she could. Human expression and tone was just so mesmerizing to Connor. He had learned quite a bit of it from Hank's deadpanning.

"Fuck Gavin Reed." Hank concluded.

"Fuck him." She said, slipping her hand into her skirt pocket. "About to take a break, loosen my head with a smoke." She pulled out a crumpled pack of cigarettes. Some were half-finished, stained with lipstick at their butts, and still fairly long. She was conscious of littering, which was why she had shoved them back into the carton instead. Keyboards rattled as Connor's eyes moved back to her.

She was lost in her own thoughts it seemed, or she just didn't care to breathe another word of Gavin. That was understandable. The hustle and bustle of the DPD continued to move around them: officers in uniform grabbing their breakfast, androids delivering morning gazettes and the like. Everything was just white noise to Connor when he focused on her sitting like that. Her profile was just as lovely.

She shifted slightly, the line of her jaw cocking at a certain angle that blocked him from scanning her face. Connor wanted to know her name more than anything, and he didn't even understand the desire himself. She pulled out a cigarette and lit it up, blowing a large puff of chalky smoke at the ceiling.

Hank had rustled out an old ashtray from when he was young. He used to smoke too. Connor was certain that it accounted for the hoarseness in his voice. Artificial light enveloped all three in the tight space of the office, choking out a sound from the woman's parted lips.

"Who's this?" She flicked her wrist towards Connor, who began to sit upright at the sudden attention.

"Hello. My name is Connor. I'm the android sent by — "

"I'm stuck with it. Don't ask." Hank interrupted. Connor easily disregarded that, slight annoyance touching Miss Martin's eyes on the other hand. She kicked Hank's leg softly and clicked her tongue. Connor saw her face. _Augusta Martin_. Her lips were large, plump, and colored nude. She gazed at him with consideration, tapping her cigarette against the plastic rim of the ashtray. Her stare went on for some time, causing even Hank to notice. She groaned suddenly, and with a start, leapt off Connor's desk.

"Fuck _me_." Her heels clattered on the lacquered floor. She wasn't supposed to smoke in the office, no one really was, but she would usually only do it for a few minutes at a time. It was pointless to complain about it. And even Hank had grown accustomed to the routine. He still grumbled when he could, but that was another matter. "I'm going to set off the alarms. The fire department's going to rip my head off — _again_." Augusta usually paced around enough so that the detectors wouldn't go off, but somehow Connor had caught her off guard.

"Okay, okay, put it out. I thought you would be smart enough not to inhale that molasses-stained _shit_ into your lungs. I mean, you're twenty-four, right?" He pushed the ashtray towards her, and she smothered the cigarette's snout.

"Well, I thought you xennials were too delicate to utter a word about sex. Here we are." She bit back.

"Oh, that's new!" He guffawed at the title. He remembered she had called him a fogey once after flipping through a tattered dictionary she found in her parents' home. She had a mouth on her, that was for sure.

"By the way, we're going over how disgusting you would look bouncing on Gavin's prick. That's the exception." He smiled.

"God, when you put it _that_ way — " She cut herself off, visibly shuddering at the conjured image. She was beginning to despise that pathetic goblin of a man with every mention. "Almost sounds appealing, getting laid. Might as well cancel my club pass while you're at it because I just lost my appetite. Thank _you_."

"Well, I forgot Miss Honeypot had such high morals." She nearly rolled her eyes at that. Augusta was easy on the eyes, which hadn't been difficult for the male officers to figure out. She decided to help a huge drug bust a year back in the hopes of getting promoted. Her job was to lure suspects out. There was a sting operation at a crackhouse and everything.

"Very funny." She snorted. It wasn't exactly the highlight of her career.

"Hah. Dating life's not too hot in 2038, is it? Figured as much."

"No — It's not. Anyway, Hank. I don't have all the time in the world to get into a relationship when I work here."

"Yeah?"

"But I can feel my eggs eroding." She always did have a penchant for drama.

"And the smoking sure as shit doesn't help."

"Oh, I didn't realize there's a link to nicotine and infertility. Must be an interesting study."

"Hmph." He grunted, finishing the last bit of coffee. Augusta continued.

"How many people do you know in their twenties anyway? I can't be the only one who smokes." Hank pitched a laugh.

"Have you _walked_ around the station recently? Feels like I haven't seen you in months."

"Sure, but these people are idiots. You wouldn't tolerate a hot minute of bullshit from newbies, not enough to know if they light up one of these every now and then." She jostled the pack in hand before tossing it onto his desk. It blended into the clutter quickly. "Actually, since we're talking about them, I haven't figured out how these new officers can stand around all day without a backbone. All they do is suck dick and guzzle coffee, and for what? Wonder how I can get my spine removed too. It must be a popular procedure these days."

In a way, the DPD was indeed becoming more corrupt. A sergeant was caught planting false evidence in a woman's purse just the other week, and Augusta hadn't heard a single discouraging word about him. She felt like she was spiraling into nonexistence, what with the workload she inadvertently took on by being the department's most acclaimed pathologist. At times, she wondered if locking herself up in the basement was the best option for her sanity. If she wasn't working, she was thinking about it, which was another unhealthy habit of hers she was meaning to kick.

"Oh, and what happened to _you_? You were like an angel with Jeffrey when you were interning. Connections through family with a pretty face — You practically got in as soon as you cracked a scream. What was it? Yeah! You called him Uncle Fowler and sprang up in your Prada heels to hug him." Hank sneered. He couldn't help but remember her back then. She had so much raw talent. Resourceful and undaunted, no one could begin to compete with her ingenuity. "Talk about kissing ass, you hypocrite."

"An angel, huh? Then I'm already falling out of his mighty graces. You know this story, right? Jeff's going to dismiss me for someone better, someone wonderful. I can feel it. Next time you see me, I'll have two horns and a pair of goat legs." Hank could have toppled out of his chair with that ridiculous analogy.

"Look, you're not going to turn into Satan anytime soon. At least not under my watch, Martin. Who could be more valuable than you? You're our choice pathologist." Those words were beginning to mean nothing to her. The more she heard them, even without the occasional insult disguised as praise, self-doubt would consume her.

"An android." She blurted it out, sparing a glance at Connor with a guilty quiver laced in her breath. "God, I can't believe I said it. I never thought I would become one of those replaced employees. They should hurry and make me the poster girl for unemployed."

"Grasping for straws." He drew out his voice. Hank looked her up and down, sucking in another remark.

"Please. I've solved more cases through paranoia than if I took them at face value. You should be happy I'm like this."

"If that's what you want to call it. _Paranoia_." Augusta licked her lips, half of a sneer tugging at the corners.

"Just stick to chasing leads, lieutenant." She said shortly. Hank cleared his throat, pointedly eyeing Connor in the process.

"Glad you reminded me. Shouldn't you be running a case file? What happened to all the evidence from our last mission?" He asked. Augusta raised a brow.

"What makes you think you're on my radar?"

"I didn't see anyone else busting their ass in the lab all weekend. You got a team back there I don't know about, or is Jeffrey still yammering on about how it isn't in our budget?" That caused another wry, little smile to curl her mouth.

"Frank. I'm not the only pathologist in the DPD, even though I _wish_ I was sometimes. Believe me. We just don't have the numbers to make up a group, and for good reason. Security's tight and there's always a risk of tampered evidence down there. It's almost impossible to confidently trace back that kind of shit when there's a lot of people who could create it in the first place. So, no team. We all work individually. I'll tell you when that changes, but I hope it doesn't."

"Seems a bit old-fashioned if you ask me." Hank replied.

"I think you're the last person I'd talk to about being old-fashioned."

"All I'm saying is that you'd get all the heat. Well, if you ever messed up." That was yet to be seen.

"Not exactly. I have my partners, don't I? They carry a lot of responsibility on their shoulders too."

"You handle everything that a detective finds. We pass it off to you. That's it. It's not a partnership. When detectives fuck up — no one gives a damn. It's a lost case and that's all it is. Goes in the fucking cold files, I don't know. When _forensics_ fuck up — it's a witch hunt with only a dozen witches. That's not a very big pool." She wanted to make a clever comment, but refrained from bringing up how witches didn't drown. It would have been wordplay at its finest. Connor would have appreciated it.

"What do you want me to do, Hank? Resign? I know it's hard — "

"It's not that it's hard, Martin. You're missing the point. You can get fired any day over a miscalculation. Do you really want your entire paycheck to depend on whether you misgender the — the goddamn jaw of a human skull?" Hank couldn't come to understand her work. He didn't have the stomach for it. It was one thing to measure clean bones, where one might imagine them to be made of plastic. However, staring at a waterlogged corpse made for less than an ideal weekend. Augusta was always in a particularly horrible mood when she worked on bodies that had been dead for some time. She hated the ones that were full of water, the ones found in lakes or boggy marshes.

"All I know is that I busted my ass to be here. I can't let all of that time and money be wasted." She said.

"You went to one of the most liberal, snowflake colleges on the coast. I mean, how useful can that diploma really be?"

"I'm not saying I don't have my regrets, Hank." She laughed, which earned another indiscrete glance from Connor. It was difficult to ignore the android at this point, even with her back turned against him, as she felt his eyes periodically loom over her. Every now and again, Connor had scratched his face or stifled a noise lodged in the back of his throat. That was peculiar to Hank, who had eagerly discredited Connor as nothing more than an emotionless robot.

It was odd that he seemed so restless.

Augusta twisted her head to Connor, a sweetness coming into view. She _looked_ sweet. Her cheeks were reddening, dimples etched into her skin. He didn't know what to make of her. His vitals were supposed to be fine, but his pulse spiked whenever he noticed her staring at him. Connor hadn't experienced anything like this. It wasn't enough to warrant a maintenance report with Amanda, yet it was still a bit concerning.

"Hm, I must be boring you, huh?" She sighed.

"No — Not at all! Please don't mind me." He tried to collect himself, but in the midst of it, fumbled with a pen in hand. There must have been _something_ wrong, because he almost immediately lost his grip. He dropped the pen, and with a clatter, bumped his head beneath the desk as he leaned down to retrieve it. That would have worried Augusta if she didn't know that androids weren't that susceptible to pain. She smiled again before returning her attention to the lieutenant.

"Anyway, I'm assigned to you two exclusively as of late. You were right. Congratulations on your return, Detective Anderson."

"As short-lived as it'll be." He added.

"Now, I should probably update you on a certain situation that kept me in that _God_ forsaken lab all weekend." Augusta pulled out a holographic monitor from her pocket, expanding it with her fingertips. She only needed to look at it for a moment before flipping it to Hank. "The android that was interrogated is dead." She kept her fingers curled on the hologram. All of the deviant's information was laid out clearly, and the forensic report along with it.

"What? It was handled — " Hank began.

"The HK400 model smashed his head into the wall of his cell. Completely irreversible, I'm afraid. I tried everything from a technical perspective. He had only been activated for six months." Hank was shocked, eyes scanning across Augusta's analysis. There were fractured parts, an irrecoverable core, and fried circuits around his throat.

"Christ." He whispered.

"You had a confession, I heard. That he — "

"That it murdered Carlos Ortiz? Yeah." Augusta grimaced at Hank's word choice, but chose to refrain from speaking on it.

"Then it shouldn't matter." She concluded.

"A little harsh, Martin."

"Yeah, well, he probably would've been tortured to death by being stripped apart alive anyway. This is better." She flipped through the photos again, human skin mixed with synthetic scraps. It was a dishearteningly familiar sight.

"He didn't deserve any of this." She muttered.

"We chose law, not order. Doesn't matter how we feel. Don't forget that." She knew that he was trying to be consoling, but she didn't find any relief in being helpless. There was nothing she could have done, and that's what made her sick. Augusta compressed the image and placed the monitor back into her pocket.

"I don't need the reminder, Hank. As far as the confession is concerned, it would have killed him anyway in a court. He was dead either way." She tapped her heel against the floor tiles, hands now folded in a self-comforting gesture. Connor was listening attentively, his dark eyes fixated on her face. Some ease filled her chest when she began to notice his soft features.

"The statuette was the only thing of value worth recovering. The bat, the knife, not worth the storage in the evidence locker since we know what occurred."

"And the body?" Hank asked.

"It's in there. Lynched like the rest. We cleaned the blood at least. Made it bearable for you two if either ever want to revisit."

" _Shit_ , Augusta."

"Sorry, too soon?" She said, irony dripping from her tongue like venom. She wiped down the sides of her skirt, smoothening out its long creases before Hank suddenly spoke up again. He leaned back in his seat and respired.

"I'm glad the blood's blue in those things." Augusta was beginning to feel nauseous for the third time in ten minutes. She glanced at the clock on the wall, its narrow hands stretched close. Her head felt heavy, and before she knew it, Augusta was already walking away. She waved, sparing another second to look at Connor.

"I'm late. I'll see you tomorrow, Hank. Be careful, boys." Hank lifted his hand in return, swinging his chair to face the laptop. He and Connor started to work in silence. The android's cognitive abilities were spiraling out of control meanwhile. Connor needed some time to think clearly, because he couldn't focus on what he was doing. He tapped on his own keyboard without a word, but a part of him wanted to question Hank's background with the pathologist. How long had they known one another? How often did she come by to see Hank? What was she like out of the DPD? Although, he supposed that last part wasn't relevant.

"Connor." Hank interrupted his line of thought. The lieutenant narrowed his eyes suspiciously, trying to understand what Connor could possibly be contemplating. "Don't talk to her." Hank declared, and went back to filling out another form. Connor gave a look of surprise.

"Why not, lieutenant?" He asked. He was very curious as to what Hank was holding back. Hank tilted in his chair, his voice entwined with annoyance, and gave Connor a look that was comparable to rotting eggs.

"I'm not going to spell out anything, but you took her job. The _best_ thing you need to be doing around her is not creating any eye contact and getting out of her hair."

"I never touched her hair — "

"Don't be in her business, Connor." Hank snapped. "And if you're lucky, she'll have the restraint not to kick your tin ass all the way to, what, Cyberlife?"

"That is correct."

"She's a forensic pathologist. Worked her ass off or something at some nightmare of a women's college and has only been at it with us for a year. Now a factory pumps out an android that sticks the blood of a rotting corpse in its mouth, and figures out everything she spent months studying extensively in a hot second. That's tough shit."

"Oh." That was all he could manage. Connor hadn't even realized that his own assignment might hinder her livelihood, or any other pathologist's as well.

"Turns out the most nasty feature you have is exactly what's going to put the only tolerable person in here out of the job. Real nice." Hank rolled his eyes. "Stay away from her or I'm gonna have to put down insurance for your damaged parts."

"She'll be working with us in future cases?" Connor was excited. He had heard what she said, but there was still that piece of doubt in the back of his mind.

"What do you think, Connor? You see any professional sons of bitches in here? This is Detroit. We run off crackshots and wide-eyed forensic workers. The DPD is built off her blood, sweat, and tears. In the most literal sense, I should add. She's our only reliable forensic pathologist. Works all the homicide, suicide, and rape cases. Anything with DNA."

"I see." Connor said. That made sense of course, but he was far more interested in Augusta on an individual level. She may as well have been the best pathologist in the world, but honestly, Connor was intrigued by the way that she addressed him. There was a glint in her eyes that acknowledged him as a person, or at least he thought.

"Connor, let me ask you a personal question." Hank slid his tongue over his teeth, already regretting what he was about to propose. Connor's interest was piqued, and he sat straight, ready to answer whatever came his way.

"You wish to know something about me? Go ahead, lieutenant." He said. Hank looked to the side, embarrassment building in his stomach.

"How is it downstairs? I mean, does everything work? Properly?" Connor blinked, processing what exactly Hank was asking of him. Hank couldn't have really wanted to know, right?

"I'm not entirely certain what you're suggesting."

"Ah, fuck it. Never mind. I'm too old for this shit anyway." Hank murmured.

"Her name is Augusta Martin, yes?" Connor promptly furthered the discussion. He was keen on learning more about the enigmatic person who was Augusta Martin. He needed to make sure that everything was alright with his programming, and seeing her again would be a way in which he could test it. Connor continued reciting his observations.

"I analyzed her. She has vitiligo, and I believe her blood type is O positive. She was injured when she was young so she needed a blood transfusion. I also gathered some data from her medical files — "

"Do you like the way she looks?" Hank asked. Connor needed to reflect on that. Hank had a strange way of communicating his ideas.

"I don't think I understand what you mean. Are you asking if I find her attractive?"

"Yeah, she's a nice-looking girl. Don't you think so?" Connor's ring spun again, a bright yellow in place of his usual blue.

"Her proportions are ideally even, she has feminine facial features, and she is very ideal for child-birthing. What with her large hips — "

"I got it. I got it." He didn't need that much detail. Hank sat there without touching his laptop, the screen a winding vision of a cerulean seascape. He looked at the mug that Augusta left, and studied the coffee stains inside of it. Hank coughed. "Androids couldn't, let's say, get a woman pregnant, right?"

"No. All android models, male and female, are infertile."

"So, why are you programmed to look at it from that angle?" He raised a brow inquisitively, scrunching up his face.

"I have a chemical and biological software enhancement that aides with crime scenes. Human anatomy and fitness are included in both."

"Are you sure that's it? You're not thinking about something else, are you? _Can_ you?" Hank was edging on dangerous territory, but this knowledge was invaluable.

"My penis can expand and rise in response to arousal, lieutenant. If that's what you're implying. Evidently, I cannot become aroused by thoughts alone. That would be incredibly against my program." If that hadn't sent the lieutenant rearing backward, Connor didn't know what could have.

"Forget I fucking asked. Jesus." Hank spluttered.

"I apologize if you envisioned that scenario. It is only a natural component of the body in preparation for intercourse. All androids can be utilized for such, regardless of their original purpose."

"But that's a feeling, Connor. Doesn't matter what the program is." Hank said.

"Androids simply respond to their owners' demands and desires. Emulating pleasure is also a feature installed for such behavior."

"Then a deviant would act on its own accord, right? Considering — " He paused. "I mean, shit, you said it. What if an android _wanted_ to have sex? What if it _felt_ pleasure instead of imitating it?" Hank seemed to have come across an odd discovery.

"If that is the situation, then that android would be classified as a deviant. I suppose." Connor entertained the thought, but didn't see how that connected to him at all. Hank snorted, the edge of his lips rising, and laughed.

"Well, we have another clue when identifying these deviants, huh? We can look out for the horny ones."

**Author's Note:**

> I think you all know where this is going. I'm so excited to throw in the shitbird that is Gavin Reed, mess around with some religious themes about fucking robots. Did I mention there will be robot fucking? Anyway, I really just adore Connor and hope this will do some justice in the D:BH fandom. Leave a kudos and a comment for more!


End file.
